


Tart But Sweet

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georg is dating Bill. Bill is coming out. Tom is...redecorating redneck-style?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tart But Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly stole knw's unclaimed prompt from the Georg FQF: Georg needs to ask the other twin for permission to date the one he likes, kinda father of the bride style/or a pre-established pairing 'coming out' to the other twin (as far as Georg knows, since the twins are unlikely to really keep anything from each other). In either case, said Other Twin makes things as awkward as possible for a while (think Meet the Parents!)
> 
> Thanks to pseudoblu for the bullying. I mean support. I stole Winston from gajastar, also purely without shame, because this is AU to my twincest-verse where their pointer is named Nova.

Georg stood on the front stoop with the plum kuchen in his hands, casting a nervous look over his shoulder as though expecting girls with cameras to pop out at any moment, as had occurred in days past. For a split second of sheer terror that was either insanity or the first instance of clear thinking he'd showed in months, he wondered how things had gotten to this point. He then fixed on a recollection of the brilliance of Bill's smile, eyes soft around the edges just for him, and the moment passed.

Still, he was standing on the Kaulitz step with a plum kuchen. He tried to position it less awkwardly and obviously as he raised his arm to knock again. From inside, two low, lazy woofs answered his knock.

Georg had wanted to bring a pizza, but Bill had negated that as too casual, and "besides, we eat that ALL the time." He'd suggested wine, but Bill had vetoed it as Tom might see it as Georg trying to get him drunk to soften him up for the blow. He'd considered a gift basket of some sort, but Bill had nixed that on the grounds that Tom would view it as "trying to suck up." Knowing the twins had a sweet tooth and were unable to bake for a damn, he'd at last begged his mother to to make her family recipe for plum kuchen.

As Georg began to pass the wide, flat tart dish from one hand to the other, the door whipped open.

Tom stood on the threshold, wearing all black from baggy, black denim to an oversized hoodie over a black tee with silver graffiti logos, to the black scowl on his face below his dark, sharply slanted brows. He didn't offer a hello.

"Oh, hi," Georg said, his voice weak to his own ears. "I see Bill must have told you about--"

"You think _my own twin_ wouldn't have told me something as important as the fact that he's dating our bandmate?" Tom interrupted, frowning down at Georg.

"I didn't say that!" Georg said at once, stung. "I'd never..."

"Good," Tom grunted. "Because it's not going to happen. We tell each other everything."

For the first time since he'd known the twins, Georg hoped with every fiber of his being that Bill did not, in fact, tell Tom _everything_ anymore. There was a certain nickname that would kill him forever...

"Can I..." Georg began, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask for entry.

"What are those, prunes?" Tom peered at the dessert held up in Georg's hands like an offering to keep an angry god at bay. "For fuck's sake, how old do you think we are, sixty?"

Georg took a deep breath and reminded himself he wasn't going to get invited inside if he lost it on the front stoop. "It's a plum kuchen," he said, gathering his dignity.

Tom's pointer, Winston, craned around Tom's knees and poked his cold nose into Georg's crotch.

"You may as well come in," Tom grumbled, not bothering to try and heel Winston. He grabbed the plate from Georg's hands and backed up, swinging the door wider.

It left enough room for Georg to edge past Tom, who eyeballed him the whole way until Georg reached the mat where a jumble of boots and shoes awaited. He glanced up, began to pull his shoes off, and his head jerked up again. He stared at the new addition to the living room decor beyond the entryway.

"Tom," Georg said, his voice strained. "You never had shotguns racked in your living room before."

"Huh," Tom responded. "You were never dating my little brother before."

So that was how it was going to be. Georg controlled the reflexive urge to back away slowly. "Where's Bill?"

"Around," Tom said, heading for the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder in passing. "You're not allowed on the second floor anymore."

"Why not?" Georg asked, pulling a face.

Tom made an exasperated noise in his throat. "The bedrooms are up there. Idiot." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Georg pushed the dog's head away from his crotch again. "Hear that, Winston?" he said softly, scratching the German pointer beneath one ear until he leaned against Georg's leg. "He thinks we _only_ do it in bedrooms."

"I heard that," Tom called back, sounding unamused. "Stay three meters away or more from my brother or I'll serve you with a restraining order."

"He's taking this much better than I expected," Georg told the dog.

* * *

Georg was standing in front of the shuttered black screen that closed off the fireplace from use, hands clasped before him as he looked over a couple of awards that Bill had swiped from the studio and brought home for himself. Perhaps Tom had had a hand in it, too, because they were well dusted. Winston had wandered off, and Tom was lurking somewhere in the kitchen, probably still mad that Georg had said 'do it' in reference to his precious little brother, whom he liked to pretend was still virginal. Someone with Bill's smoldering eyes and pouting lips and knowing hands had almost certainly not been a total virgin before Georg had gotten there, but everyone allowed Tom his little illusions. It made all their lives on the road somewhat smoother.

"Guess who?" a voice trilled, and slender, supple-skinned hands blanketed about half his face.

"Um, the Kaulitz who's still speaking to me?"

"Don't be silly!" Bill said with a chuckle, pulling his hands away and giving Georg room to turn and face him. His brown eyes were warm and pleased as he looked down at Georg and he gave a happy little squeak as Georg leaned forward to slide an arm around him, stroking that place just below one of his shoulder blades where he'd unearthed a previously undiscovered mole the other day. "Oh, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Georg murmured. In the frantic rush of tour break-down and the final days of Humanoid City performances, finishing all of that and planning for their next engagements, they had barely gotten to see each other outside of a few meet and greets. He lifted a hand to stroke Bill's face, smiling as Bill nuzzled into his palm and kissed the heel of his hand.

"Come here," Bill murmured, flexing his nails at Georg's nape.

"But Tom--" Georg began, craning to peer over Bill's shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

"--isn't going to be kissing you; _I_ am," Bill finished with the familiar arch of a pierced brow.

Georg surrendered to superior logic and leaned in for a kiss.

Bill's lips were plush against his and glossed with berry flavor. He made the same little noise as they kissed that he had the very first time - as though he were so into it, so into Georg, he simply couldn't help himself. He pressed closer and Georg tightened his arm around Bill's waist as their bodies came into contact from chest to thigh.

"Ohh," Bill breathed against his mouth.

"You taste good," Georg mumbled, before surging forward to seal their lips together. He probed at Bill's full lower lip and nearly groaned as he was granted access to the hot, slick recess within.

Bill sucked Georg's tongue in as though he were performing a decidedly carnal act on more intimate parts of Georg. After a moment they broke from the kiss, panting.

"Did you already tell him...everything?" Georg wanted to know.

Bill's fingernails flexed at Georg's nape and his lashes swept down to veil his brown eyes. "No, we'll tell him the rest together," he said, sounding shy.

The thought struck Georg that, much as Bill told Tom everything, he was still subject to a certain craving for approval from him, a desire not to disappoint him, and the other half of what he and Georg had decided to tell Tom was too much for Bill alone. Bill was giving him doe eyes like he feared that wasn't okay.

“It's all right,” Georg assured him, tugging Bill into the crook of his arm, stroking down his side with his other hand. “We should tell him together.”

Besides, he added in his thoughts as he angled his mouth for Bill's again, if Tom knew the _rest_ , he probably would have answered the door with a shotgun in his hands rather than racked on the wall.

“Ugh, that's disgusting,” a voice proclaimed nearby, making Georg disengage his mouth from Bill's. The interjection was followed by a series of dramatic gagging noises. “Can't you to keep your hands off each other for the five minutes I'm not in the room?”

Georg began to smirk and tried to contain it, torn between his natural desire to torment Tom and logic urging him to take it easy in order to avoid making things worse for he and Bill later. Bill unwound himself, but retained possession of one of Georg's hands, giving it a furtive squeeze.

“Why don't we have some drinks,” Bill said, ignoring Tom as he often did when his twin spouted off something he didn't like. "We can chat a bit before we have dinner..." He cast a sidelong smile at Georg, wry and somewhat tense, letting him know they were still on the same page so far as revelations were concerned.

"Sure," Georg agreed.

"Tom, bring us some drinks," Bill commanded. "We're going to get to know each other."

"We already know each other," Tom protested at once. He glared at Bill, suspicious. "And you can get your own drinks for you and...Hagen."

Georg imagined all the uncomplimentary nicknames that Tom must have been entertaining himself with during that pause.

“Be polite, or I won't go with you later to walk the dogs,” Bill warned.

Tom opened his mouth, shut it, and wheeled around to head back for the kitchen.

“Bill,” Georg stage-whispered, “I really don't want to turn him against me more than he already is, right now.”

Bill took a few decisive steps, dragging Georg for the couch. “Don't be ridiculous. I always boss Tom around.”

Georg couldn't dispute it.

As Bill hauled him over to the couch, Georg protested wanly, "Tom's right, we already know each other..."  
"That was like a secret code," Bill informed him. "One for you and me. We need our own code, now. A couple's code, the way Tom and I have a twin code."

Georg grinned over at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, then we can say mushy things when Tom's around and he can't whine about it."

They settled on the couch together. When Georg would have put a decorous half-cushion's length between them, Bill plastered himself right up against his side, situating them thigh to thigh and retaining Georg's hand.

Tom stalked back into the living room, a muscle in his jaw going rigid as he caught sight of the two of them. He set beers down before each of them on the coffee table and kept a wary eye on Georg as he plunked himself down in the chair opposite.

"Thanks..." Georg began.

"Are you having sex with my brother?" Tom interrupted, leaning over his knees and glaring directly at Georg. He lifted his beer as though he wanted to take a swallow of his drink, but was too busy initiating an impromptu stare-down.

Before Georg's scandalized brain could even begin to compose a reply, Bill made a noise like a wounded cat. "Tom! Just because you announce your dick's itinerary to the world doesn't mean _my_ sexual exploits are any of your business."

Tom's lower lip jutted. "We share everything, we're twins."

Georg glanced over at Bill, whose dark brow was rising. Bill's hand squeezed his reassuringly.

"I wasn't aware you wanted to know what _my_ come noises sounded like," Bill said to him.

Tom made a strangled sound. "Don't ever have sex in our house, that's all I ask!"

"We have sex over at Georg's," Bill assured him serenely.

Tom produced the noise again at a higher octave.

Georg squeezed Bill's hand, hard. "You are _not helping_ ," he whispered.

* * *

Beers in hand, they went through a getting-to-know-you exercise that Bill proposed and Georg had scant enthusiasm for, given the gimlet stare that Tom was trying to pin him with the entire time. At last, Bill huffed and broke off mid-sentence.

"Go check the oven," Bill said with a wave of his beer in Tom's general direction.

Tom frowned at him. "You go check the oven. You just want me to leave the room so you can make out with your boyfriend."

"The last time I went to check the oven, I got distracted touching up my nail polish and didn't get to the food until it was all charcoal," Bill returned.

Tom set his beer down with a jolt. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll get myself another beer."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Bill said, flipping Tom a one-fingered salute. "Have another and mellow out, all right?"

"They're individual pizzas," Tom said, getting up from his chair with a grunt. He cast one last look at Georg. "You like yours burnt to a crisp, right?"

Georg rolled his eyes and lifted his beer to his mouth, knowing better than to respond. If the food actually turned up in front of him resembling carbon more than it did pizza, then he'd complain. Or perhaps take Bill out to a nice restaurant. After they waited two hours for security to come join them.

"Is that true?" Georg murmured, leaning toward Bill. "About the nail polish?"

"I was reading Vogue in the downstairs bathroom," Bill whispered back. "But I can't tell him _that._ "

It warmed Georg that Bill would tell _him_.

When Bill tugged his face closer, eyes lowering and mouth parted just so, a twinge of desire went through Georg's stomach, laced with unease. He didn't bother to bring Tom up again. He'd let Bill manage his brother, and Georg would manage the rest...

Bill's lips were hot and clung to his as they kissed, soft and open-mouthed and building urgency together. Georg wound an arm around Bill, cupping his face with the other hand as they traded kisses, their lips pressing and sliding together in slow harmony, back and forth before the flicker of tongues ever entered the occasion. Georg wanted to surge forward and slip his tongue into Bill's mouth but he was also enjoying the restraint of these shallow kisses, only their moist lips connecting and parting. Bill's kisses were wet and involved even without the addition of his pierced tongue.

So maybe they could do this, after all.

"Stop that," Tom growled, tromping back into the living room. "Are the two of you going to be sucking face all night?"

They pulled apart and Bill gave Georg a rueful smile. Gloss was smeared in the corners of his mouth but his eyes were sparkling. 

"Shut up, Tom. You've made out with plenty of chicks in front of me," Bill accused.

"Oh, name the last time," Tom grumbled back, and turned his irked brown eyes on Georg. "Go ahead, you name the last time I did that."

"I'm staying out of this," Georg said, holding up both hands, his right arm still settled around Bill's shoulder. There were a few laws to being in Tokio Hotel, and the first had always been, thou shalt not interfere with a twin fight. Georg considered it wise to stay out of anything remotely resembling a twin fight. "How's dinner coming along?"

Tom threw himself back into his chair, holding tight to a fresh beer. "Don't change the subject," he said.

"But I'm hungry," Bill objected.

"Ehh," Tom said. "About ten more minutes."

It was a good thing, Georg considered, that he liked pizza. It was pretty much one of three things that the twins knew how to make. He glanced sidelong at Bill, who was looking somber. This was one of those moments, he thought, when a couples' code would come in handy for them.

Bill's hand gripped his, and Georg realized that the moment was _now_.

"We've got something to tell you," Bill said, clinging to Georg's hand as though _he_ were the one in need of support. "We want to...look, we want your blessing to come out...to the fans."

"No," Tom said at once.

"That wasn't a _question_ , Tom," Bill said, his voice hard.

"We'd like your support," Georg re-phrased it. "We haven't discussed this with management..."

"They're going to say no," Tom said, glowering at Georg as though he'd gotten Bill pregnant. "Do you realize what this could do to all of us?"

"We've talked about it," Bill said. "A lot." He bit his lip.

"What it comes down to, in the end, is that we both value each other too highly to go sneaking around behind everyone's backs like a couple of teenagers," Georg said. "As though it doesn't matter, as though it's just some phase. The way I feel about Bill...look. He's not some dirty secret to hide, to keep shoved away in the closet. Bill is worth more than that. He's...Bill is worth more than our fame, to me."

Tom sat back with a groan and rubbed his face. He kept his head tipped back, fisted hands over his eyes.

Georg contemplated getting up and fetching more beers for all of them.

Bill crossed his legs and squeezed Georg's hand hard enough he was probably going to leave permanent crescent imprints in the side of his hand.

At last, Tom hitched up in his seat and stared at the two of them, expression solemn. "Well...you'd better start out by telling the fans that you're bi, Bill. Otherwise everyone's going to accuse you of lying when you said all those years you're not gay."

"I'm NOT gay!" Bill wailed. "Why does everyone keep SAYING it!?"

* * *

It was all over but the clean-up.

They had Tom's tacit consent if not exactly his blessing, the pizzas had been demolished, they had chased the beers with a bottle of champagne – perhaps unwisely – and Bill was on the phone with Simone, laughing and giggling and fluttering his free hand in a way that betokened all was well with the Trümper household, as well.

Georg disengaged his hand from Bill's thigh and picked up both their empty plates, looking absently around for dogs as he made his way to the kitchen. They'd discussed several different ways to approach the coming out over dinner and the dogs had been present, begging scraps. Bill had stolen bits of sausage off Georg's pizza to feed his dackels. He'd pouted cutely at Georg as he did it, so Georg had forgiven him.

As he rounded the last corner to the kitchen, he found a small herd of dogs clustered around Tom's knees, four tails wagging in unison.

Tom stood at the counter, a slice of plum kuchen dangling from one hand. He gave Georg wide eyes, pausing in the act of shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

Georg looked from Tom to the kuchen, which was _decimated_. There were five slices left, roughly one third of the tart.

Georg leveled a finger at Tom, who gave a guilty start.

"I _knew_ you'd like that kuchen, I knew it!" Every time Tom had retreated to the kitchen, Georg had a feeling he'd been eating the dessert. The kuchen he'd brought for _both_ of them.

"Busted," Tom said indistinctly, shoving the last of the slice in his mouth and wiping his hand on a nearby towel. He wrinkled his face up in a grimace. "Damn it, I was going to blame the dogs."

"You know, half of that was for Bill," Georg told him, forming a plan. "And he loves sweet things..."

Tom heaved a sigh. "What's it worth to you?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

"I think I'll keep it in reserve," Georg said with a smirk. The only thing better than a bribed Kaulitz was a blackmailed one.

"You're an asshole," Tom said. He stared at him a moment longer and said finally, "Fine. I accept you into our family. On a conditional basis."

"That's fine," Georg replied. He set the dishes on the counter and began to back out of the kitchen. " _You_ get to explain what you did with Bill's share of dessert."

The kuchen had been the winning gambit, after all.


End file.
